


A Christmas Miracle

by IneffableScript



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Christmas, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crowley Has A Secret, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableScript/pseuds/IneffableScript
Summary: After the Non-Apocalypse, Aziraphale feels he can finally enjoy Christmas. He thinks the only thing to make it perfect, would be to spend it with Crowley. But Crowley has a secret that might ruin Aziraphale's plans! Lots of fluff, only a dab of angst.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	A Christmas Miracle

Aziraphale use to loath Christmas. Heaven would work him to the bone each year to perform more and more miracles all over the globe. Christmas also meant triple the amount of customers that would come into the shop. On the rare occasion Aziraphale could return to his beloved safe haven, the moment he thought to open the shop would result in a nightmare of people piling in, moving things about, trying to bargain with him on the prices of his books, and demanding gift wrapping. He would close the shop very late in the evening and by the time he finished putting everything back in order, his corporation would be sore from his eyes down to his feet. Aziraphale almost understood Crowley’s need to sleep after the month of December.

This year would be different though. Aziraphale always wanted to like Christmas. What was there not to like? The bright, twinkling lights, patisseries baking Christmas cake, trees decorated from top to bottom in lovely little ornaments, coco in front of the fire, gift giving, lightly glazed hams, and, of course, ice skating. He could not dance, except, of course, for the gavotte, but Aziraphale had learned to ice skate more than 4,000 years ago when it was the only way of fast travel when he was desperately needed for a blessing one winter in Finland. And he could not wait to teach Crowley as he was sure the demon, due to his cold blooded nature, only hibernated back then and had never truly learned. But then, that was just the problem.

Since he and Crowley had spent the better part of the last century together, Aziraphale took notice that his demon counterpart would hide away in the winter, especially on Christmas Day. He assumed this was due to the meaning of the holiday and his friends demonic disposition. Aziraphale was prepared to do all he could to talk Crowley into spending Christmas Day with him at the bookshop and show him that he, too, deserved to celebrate the day. Aziraphale understood the awkward meaning to the day, what with it being the Almighty’s only living son’s birthday and all, but then Crowley had had no part in what had happened to the poor fellow. Crowley had done so much this year and deserved a Christmas Day like the human children get to wake up to. A warm home, gifts under a tree, and someone, dare he say, special to spend it with. 

Aziraphale smiled as he continued putting up the warm white lights in the window of the bookshop. There was no way the demon could pass up his offer if he could manage to get his favorite scotch for Christmas dinner, which is what he had planned to pick up that very evening. That was until he saw the demons down trotted face as he passed by the window. 

“Crowley! What ever is the matter, dear?,” Aziraphale said, his voice dripping with worry as he turned to look at the demon walking in, shivering as though he had walked through the Antarctic to get there. 

“Ngk-Just cold s’all,” the red head said, shrugging off the many layers he had piled on.

“Yes, yes. I know. Cold blooded. But how can you have such a long face with all these lovely things about?” Aziraphale finished hanging the final length of lights and clasped his hands together, beaming as he turned toward Crowley. “What do you think, dear? I know its not much. I don’t want to catch too much attention after all. But, oh, its the day before Christmas Eve already and I just couldn’t resist any longer! Perhaps...” He stepped closer to the demon, “perhaps we could get a tree, you know, to decorate… together?” 

“S’fine. Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley said looking away from his angelic friend, and stepping further into the shop. “Got any wine?”

Aziraphale was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He knew when something was on the demons mind and he knew Crowley was ignoring his last question. 

“Yes, Crowley, you know I always have wine. But do you think, perhaps, you can tell me what really is the matter? We’ve known each other so very long. You should know better than to keep anything from me.” The angel, knowing the demon would go in search for wine, snapped his fingers and suddenly held the Crowley’s favorite red in hand. “Let’s sit and talk, shall we?” 

Crowley didn’t say another word. He simply nodded, grabbed the bottle from Aziraphale, and headed for his usual place in the back of the shop. After pouring a glass for Aziraphale, pouring a glass for himself, downing the entire thing, and pouring himself another, he sat back and looked at the angel, still somber but more content as the alcohol warmed his blood. “S’what did you want to talk about?,” he said cooly.

“I haven’t the faintest clue why you are acting this way, my dear, but I think you should- oh whats the expression- spill the beans!”

“Nothing. S’all fine. Great. Fuckin’ cold can shove off, but everything is grand.” Crowley faked a smile as he took another sip of his wine.

Aziraphale knew this dance very well. It was the only other dance he knew, this proverbial waltz with the demon. He sighed and looked at Crowley, blue eyes catching sheathed golden eyes. He knew he was going to have to meet the demon with his dramatics.

“Crowley… I won’t ask you again. I don’t know why you insist on sitting there and lying to me!,” Aziraphale tutted and placed his glass of wine down. 

“Lying!? I-I sssaid everything is fine, angel! Can we pleasssse drop it?”

“Well perhaps you should get going if you are going to sit there in such a foul mood!”

“Aziraphale, pleassse...”

“I won’t have you ruining my Christmas spirit!”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Besides, you never appreciated the holiday!”

The demon threw his wine glass to the floor, causing Azirapahle to jump and stare at him with wide, crystal blue eyes. The demon had always been quick to emotions, but never had he purposefully broken something of the angels.

“Damn it all...” Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers, the glass fixed itself and the wine filled it again. “Sorry. I didn’t… its just… I knew this would come up and I… I don’t know how to tell you...”

Aziraphale got up and perhaps for the first time in the over 300 years he had owned the shop, he sat next to Crowley on the couch. He grabbed the redheads hands in one hand and removed his sunglasses with the other, gently setting them aside and uncovering those lovely wide amber eyes.

“Crowley, please tell me what has you like this? We are on our side now, remember? And quite frankly, my dear, I don’t think you could tell me anything that would truly surprise me.”

Crowley flinched a little, as touching was still new for them. He now felt so bare looking into the angels eyes and whatever traces of cold were left in his body, rushed away as his face flushed. 

“Yeah…‘lright then.” Crowley took a deep breath and braced himself. “Aziraphale, what if I told you that I am, in fact, bloody Santa Claus?”

“Santa…. Claus? THE Santa Claus? The robust fellow who delivers toys all over the… the world to… to children?”

“Yes.”

“The jolly fellow in the red suit?”

“Tha’s the one.”

“With the reindeer?”

“Ya know, I still haven’t a clue where the reindeer bit came from! I don’t even use the Bentley!,” Crowley scuffed a nervous laugh and looked at his angel, who looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him despite not needing it. “’Lright angel?”

“Yes, quite!,” was all Aziraphale could get out before his cheeks began to puff up and turn red. The demon was worried, but only for a split second before the angel suddenly burst into laughter. Tears began to stream down his beet red face. He continued to laugh until Crowley scuffed and pushed the angels hands away. 

“No no no! I’m sorry, my dear! But… but surly you are jesting, yes?”

Crowley, now face almost as red as his hair, shook his head. As Aziraphale began to laugh again, Crowley stood to leave. Aziraphale quickly went after him, wiping tears from his face. 

“Oh Crowley I’m sorry! Please don’t go!” He caught the demon by the waist and pulled him to him. “Please dear. Stay and tell me your story. I’m sorry I laughed. It just seems...”

Crowley turned in his gasp to face him. “Like a lie, right? Because how could a demon possibly be the bringer of joy to children, right?”

“No, not at all. What I mean is, you can’t possibly be Saint Nicholas, my dear. I knew him. Kind man, but kept getting himself into trouble. I’ve always known you to have a soft spot for the human children, but to go out of your way to deliver gifts to them on the holiest night of the year? That...” even as the words were leaving his mouth, it dawned on Aziraphale that this sounded exactly like Crowley and his face dropped. “Oh… oh my. But! But my dear… all this time?”

“Well sort of,” Crowley croaked. He noticed that Aziraphale was no longer smiling, but gazing at him with such adoration, the angels eyes smiled for him. 

“Would you mind so very much as to tell me your story?,” Aziraphale asked, taking Crowley’s hands in his again and slowly leading him back to the couch. 

“Spose so. But can you tone it down a bit, angel? Your hurting my eyes.” Crowley collapsed onto the couch and rubbed his fisted into his eyes for a moment. 

“Oh! Yes, sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale sat next to his demon, his glow simmering a bit. Crowley looked at his angel and smirked.

“Le’s see… I think… well I know… it started after the Ark, actually...” Crowley started, tilting his head back and letting his eyes rest on the ceiling.

The Ark. When Crowley was not able to save any of the children from the Almighty’s wrath, he felt an undeniable sense to guilt. More than he already did from the Fall. He had to do something, but there was no way of bringing those children back. Everywhere he went, in every child he saw, Crowley saw looking back at him those tiny, desperate, and blue faces. 

So unbeknownst to him, he became a sort of guardian to the children he passed. Everywhere Hell sent him, there was yet another young one without food, another with no home, another being made to work for their family to make ends meet. Crowley would snap his fingers and fix it all for them without a second thought as to what Hell might say. And for those not needing, but lonely, he began to miracle tiny toys. Small balls or dollies usually. It was the least he could do. The only thing he could do. Give them toys to occupy them from the sad and crazy world around them. It never seemed enough, but Crowley told himself it was his demonic duty to give the children toys to annoy to their parents and cause just a tiny bit of chaos. And, of course, making their lives as he thought they should be was going against the Devine Plan, or so Crowley would report to Down Stairs whenever they began to ask. 

After more than a few decades of doing this, Down Stairs began to ask more and more questions. Was the demon going completely soft? Crowley decided that maybe doing it once a year would be best and if he had to convince the high ups that he was doing it as a way of unholy intervention on one of the holiest days of the year, so be it. Soon, other cultures began to catch on and create their own version of this the day. The people of Austria and Hungry believed either the spirit of St. Nicholas would visit them if they were good or a horned demon would visit those that were naughty. Further down the line, St. Nicholas became the King of Christmas and then Father Christmas. The American’s were the first to start calling him Santa Claus. It was no thanks to Thomas Nast that kids got the idea that gifts were to come to all at this time, causing parents to make up for those Crowley did not visit. 

Now when it came to the sleigh, reindeer, the red suit, and the likes, Crowley had no idea how those rumors started. He simply bent time and space once a year to go to children he knew were in need of something. He was vaguely aware of the bishop in the 4th century that also assisted children and became a Saint for it and all the rest, but Crowley had been doing this longer than any of them and he never once saw them in his travels. As far as he was concerned, he was the actual real deal.

“So… then why do you hide from me on Christmas Day, dear?” the angel asked as accusatory as he possibly could. 

“Its damn tiring all that is! I save up a months worth of miracles, travel about in different climates, risk getting caught not just by humans but by Hell, and all in the span of one night! Lets see you do that and not be exhausted after, angel!”

“Ah! So you sleep then! Well...”Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hands to his lips and kissed them softly. “Then I suppose I should have a warm bed and fire going for you when you come home then? Is there anything else you might need?”

Crowley gaped at Aziraphale and felt the heat rise lightly in his boney cheeks from the kiss to his hands. “Angel I… No… sounds nice...” was all he could manage to get out. The thought of Aziraphale sitting in bed with a book waiting for him flashed through his mind.

“You aren’t even a little peckish when you get back?”

“No! Ha! In fact, its no thanks to you that I eat more than I do in a year in a single night!” Crowley flashed a smile at his hedonic angel. The angel looked at the demon quizzically. “Milk and cookies, angel? You don’t remember the time you tried to track me down after the Blitz and the child saw you eating their cookies at the hospital in America?”

Aziraphale remembered that night so differently. The demon, who had spent the last 80 years sleeping before he decided to so conveniently save the angels life, left that December so suddenly, that Aziraphale feared he would never see him again. He thought the demon was running from him again, so to right things, he followed the demons trail to America. Seemed a bit odd that he would catch his presence in a hospital of all places, but Aziraphale chalked it up to being something Hell had sent the demon there for. It took so long to get there, he was sure he had missed Crowley entirely. When he arrived to the hospital, he was a little worse for wear. He did remember finding the lovely little biscuits left out with a glass of warmed milk and could not help but take one for all the trouble he had gone through to get there.

“I don’t remember any child though,” the angel tried harder to remember. 

“Thats because I acted quick enough to make him shut it!” Crowley snapped. His temper quickly simmered as he continued. “He called out ‘Santa’ to you, which I did not blame the little chap, given you looked as though you had not shaved in weeks.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shot up to meet Crowley’s and a hand came up to touch his mouth. “Oh! Oh dear! You saw that!? I was really hoping to shave before I found you. You know me, always doing things the human way.”

“S’fine angel. You… you looked rather fetching, though...” Crowley looked down at Aziraphale’s other hand that still held his, clearly avoiding eye contact. “Anyway… I made it seem like a dream to the boy, but you know kids. He told his friends, his friends told theirs, and so on. So technically!” Crowley wickedly smirked. “You are Santa Claus! They built his image after you, ya know. Jolly bloke, red cheeks, pale hair and eyes, can’t pass up a cookie if his life depended on it.”

Azirapahle took his hand back from Crowley, which only stung the demon a little, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I! I’m sure there were plenty of men that looked like that! And I have no idea what you mean about the biscuits! I have...”

“Standards, yes, I’m aware angel.” Crowley finished, letting his smile fall into one less menacing and into one more adoring. “Only home baked, fresh biscuits for you. I’ll be sure to bring some back for you Christmas morning. Ya know… if you’d like.” He let his long fingers reach out and gently touch the angels knee. 

The angel could never stay mad at his demon long. He let his arms unfold and his hands rest upon Crowley’s that rest on his knee. “So, that is… do you mean to say that… you will try to spend Christmas Day with me then?” 

“Yeah, if you’d like,” Crowley said but his tone made it come out as he meant it to mean which was of course angel, anything for you. Aziraphale’s smile shined down on him, assuring him his meaning was understood. 

“I think I’d like that very much, my dear,” Aziraphale flushed a little as he looked at his friend. 

Crowley always thought his actions spoke louder than words, especially when they always failed him around Aziraphale’s brightness. He thought a moment and allowed his smile to touch his eyes as an idea came to him. With his free hand he snapped his fingers. The air moved about them a moment, the sound of small bells silently rang out, and then the high bravado of violins that began The Christmas Song rang out from above. Aziraphale gasped a little, a playful smile dancing across his lips. 

“You wily old serpent! What have you done?”

Crowley moved to stand, allowing his hand turn in Aziraphale’s so that he was grasping it, beckoning the angel to come with him. Aziraphale stood and follow Crowley as he led him up the stairs to the angels apartments above. Crowley could not help but keep looking back at his angel’s face, the look of wonderment tracing across his features and making him some how look so much younger. As they reached the top of the stairs, Crowley stepped back, opened the door, and gestured for his friend to enter. Aziraphale cautiously walked into his rooms and Crowley chuckled as he heard the angel’s breath catch. 

The fire was blazing in the fireplace and two deep red, crushed velvet stockings now hung from the mantle. Upon further inspection, the angel saw their names neatly embroidered upon them, his in blue and Crowley’s in amber. He turned to look toward the bed and found his normal tartan duvet replaced with that of a lush white faux fur blanket with red silk pillows. He let his eyes drift over to meet Crowley’s for only half a second before turning to the window and catching sight of the tree. Aziraphale did, in fact, do a double take. 

He strode over to the tall, full tree and reached out a hand to touch its delicate pine needles. Its branches were adorn with red mesh ribbons that streamed from the top of the tree to the floor. White ornaments hung from it, all giving away little memories stored by Crowley over their 6000 years together. Small ducks, crepes, books, Bentley’s, a bust of Shakespeare, and even wings could all be seen among so many others, as well as red bells and bows placed just so. Warm white lights set the whole thing in soft glow and at the very top, the most luminescent golden star Aziraphale had ever seen apart from a real star shown down upon him. When Aziraphale turned to walk back over to Crowley, who was now propped in the door frame, the demon noticed a sheen in the angels bright cerulean eyes. 

Crowley shifted till he was standing, looking at his angel concerned. Aziraphale smiled softly, causing a small tear to spill over onto his cheek.

“My dear, dear friend… thank you,” Aziraphale said softly, not letting his eyes fall from Crowley’s intense gaze. The demon suddenly wished he had his glasses as the angel seemed to see into him. 

“S’nothing angel. I just thought I’d… share what I always wanted Christmas to be with you.” Crowley felt the heat on his cheeks. “You said you wanted a tree. You know me. Not a fan of the human way. And if you thought I was going to come back here under that thing you had, you’re out of your fucking mind.” 

Aziraphale chuckled and moved closer, possibly closer than they had ever been. 

“Hope its not too much,” Crowley continued nervously. Before Crowley could continue to spout more nonsense, he heard a bell ring above his head. He looked up to see a small glimmer form above them. He watched as it bloomed into a full mistletoe. 

“Angel?,” Crowley crocked as he looked back at Aziraphale, who was bring his hands up to grasp lightly at the lapels of his blazer. 

“Its pure perfection, Crowley, but you were missing one…” Aziraphale was now a breath away from the demon.

“Small...” he glanced down at Crowley’s slightly gapping mouth and trembling lips and wet his own. 

“Detail.” He closed the gap between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Crowley pressed lightly, not wanting to scare his angel, but wanting more. Aziraphale hummed into the kiss before pulling away slowly. The record skipped and the angel released the demon, snapping his fingers to change it. Crowley rolled his eyes a little as he heard Eartha Kitt’s voice ring out the first lyrics of Santa Baby.

“Really Zira?” Crowley’s eyes bulged as the nickname he had privately called the angel in his mind all this time came tumbling out. However, as the demon looked at his angel, he thought he could almost see his halo from how brightly he seemed to shine. Almost as bright as the golden star atop their tree.

“Zira? Hmm… yes. I think I rather like that. And I think I’d also rather like to dance with you, my love.” Aziraphale held out a hand to his demon and smiled ear to ear.

“You realize this will be a fucking mess, right?” Crowley chuckled, but slowly lifted his fingers to grasp the angels. 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley to him, stumbling back from the force of it. He went to place his other hand on Crowley’s shoulder, but Crowley raised that hand instead. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and placed it on his waist and placed his hand back where he intended it to be. They both laughed deeply this time and started to very, very slowly sway. 

“Yes, I know. But what a lovely mess it will be,” Aziraphale leaned forward and placed his cheek against Crowley’s shoulder.

“H-Happy Christmas, Zira,” Crowley managed his brain to spit out of his mouth, however ineloquent. He kissed his angel atop his soft white curls.

“Happy Christmas, Santa Claus,” Aziraphale sighed a laugh into his demons chest.


End file.
